Virgin Territory
by Thasiloron
Summary: The boys followed dutifully in her wake, making sure to pay suitable homage to the overly-enthusiastic 'Welcome ' placemat at the entrance (yeah, they even printed the little squiggly and everything).


**Virgin Territory**

Ω

 _Set during 'The Son of Neptune', because why not. (Heroes of Olympus is property of Rick Riordan, I make no money or profit, etc.)_

Ω

 _Forum, Nova Roma  
Camp Jupiter_

Another temple (located not on Temple Hill, strangely enough, but within New Rome itself). By now, Percy had become suspicious of buildings, and the folks who ran them. Frank's reasoning was, "One last visit, and you'll feel right at home!" but that seemed like a pretty tall order to Percy after the day's events.

Frank ushered him towards a uniquely circular marble temple with its entrance facing the east. It was fairly large, ringed with Corinthian columns, and was apparently a favorite hangout of about a dozen or so lares: _"GRAECUS!"_

Percy sighed as yet more specters fled from his presence, leaving trails of multicolored smoke trailing about in the wind. "Are they going to do that _every_ time they see me?"

"Don't suppose you could try to look like somebody else…?" An amused voice inquired from the temple's podium. He glanced up to see a young priestess, probably in her early twenties, descending the shallow flight of stairs to meet them. She wore a white, woolen robe that reached her ankles, and her dark hair was covered by a long woolen shawl, which loosely draped over her left shoulder. In her right hand she held a shallow golden bowl, the underside of white had a circular indentation.

"Percy, this is Valerie. One of our two Vestal Virgins." Percy almost snorted, but Frank's frantic head-shaking put him off that idea pretty quickly. "They help protect the city – and, _unlike Terminus,_ are actually pretty reasonable."

"That's not to say we don't have our _own_ rules, mind you. Taking the newbie on a tour, are we Zhang?" The priestess tipped her head curiously, dark brown eyes flashing. "As the name suggests, our order is devoted to Vesta, the virgin goddess of the hearth, of home, and of family." She smiled dangerously at the pair. "Well, if you're here to visit, please wipe your feet as you come in, _son of Neptune._ You too, Zhang." With a flourish of her long shawl, she swept back up the steps.

Percy gulped. "Uh, yes ma'am?" The boys followed dutifully in her wake, making sure to pay suitable homage to the overly-enthusiastic ' _Welcome~!'_ placemat at the entrance (yeah, they even printed the little squiggly and everything). They were lead into a central chamber, in the center of which blazed a small flame within a hearth, illuminating most of the room in light. Grey smoke drifted lazily to the roof, where it exited through a small vent at its height. He glanced around. On the far side of the hearth, half-obscured by smoke, stood a human-sized wooden statue of a goddess – one that Percy, for some reason, identified with Athena. "So, you said there were two of them, Frank?"

Valerie answered just as Frank opened his mouth: "Many of Rome's institutions predated the city itself. The Vestals were actually located in another city before Romulus showed up. We were relocated to Rome proper by King Numa, his successor. Since then, our membership grew from two to four, and then to six. But since the Empire's fall, and lack of viable candidates, we've sort of had to go back to the old system."

An ominous voice boomed from within the dark shadows cast by the blazing hearth: **_"Two there should be:_** _no more, no less. One to embody power, and the other to_ _ **crave**_ _it!"_

"Yes, and that would make you the _Master Virgin,_ wouldn't it?" The young priestess snorted. "Quit abusing quotes from Star Wars and come meet our new recruit, would you?"

"I know, I know, a _Lar_ or five ran by earlier… So, a son of Neptune, eh?" Curiously, a middle-aged woman, perhaps in her mid-to-late forties, swept into the light of the fire. What little Percy could see of her curly brown hair was just beginning to become streaked with gray, and bright green eyes were framed by crow's feet (though judging by her wide smile, they were probably born from laughter rather than age). In her right hand was clenched a golden fireplace poker, complete with leather handle and soot-covered pointy end. She beamed at the two. "And _such_ clean shoes! Like 'em already. Come, sit by the hearth. The Little Tiber is awfully cold."

Turning from her superior, Valerie smiled and said, "Percy, I'd like you to meet our _Vestalium Maxima,_ Emilia. Pretty cool as far as old folks go, and she makes the best s'mores _ever."_

"Call me _old_ again and I'll have you shoveling ash for a week." Valerie's wince was evidence that the threat was no idle one. "So, _Percy_ is it? Short for 'Percival' by any chance?"

The aforementioned son of Neptune inched closer to the flame, wrinkling his nose. He might not remember much, but he was pretty sure his name wasn't quite _that_ dorky. "No, sorry."

"Shame, all the old names are going out of style. Big fan of the Arthurian legends." She shrugged and turned away, prodding the waning fire within the hearth with her overly-priced poker. The flame leaped up in response, and Percy was immediately filled with a sense of warmth and familiarity; he felt more at ease here than anywhere else he had visited at Camp Jupiter. For the first time since arriving, he felt like he belonged. "Well, have any questions for us while you're here? We don't do any of that flashy _soothsaying_ Octavian's fond of, mind-"

"Uh, won't take too long, really." Percy scratched his neck. "I noticed most of the people around here are pretty young. Apparently, though, legionaries can retire after a while? College, families and whatnot?"

"Ah, yes, military benefits. Only after ten years, of course. We Virgins, however, must serve at Camp for _thirty."_ Smirking at Percy's gob-smacked expression, Emilia continued, "And _no_ dating for the duration, either. Or else we get executed… _but,_ since weapons aren't allowed within the city limits, naughty Virgins get buried _alive_." Raising her eyebrows thoughtfully, she continued with no regard to Percy's increasingly horrified expression, "They _do_ bury us with snacks, though. And if we can bury ourselves out… well, they put us back under of course, but the Legion would be dutifully impressed. So, ours is a full-time job, really. _You're welcome."_

Gulp. "So, do you know who your parents are? Since Vesta doesn't really have any kids…?"

"I'm actually a legacy of Ceres. Valerie's grandpa is Vulcan, so I expect you children will have to make do with copper-tasting s'mores for the next thirty years." Emilia shrugged, unperturbed by Valerie's half-hearted leer. "Demigods are rarely chosen to become Vestals. Being called for service on legionary quests tends to interrupt our state-mandated chores and what not. Which reminds me," snapping her head towards Frank, she ordered, "We need more wood. There should be a pile out back, go fetch!"

As Frank offered the two Virgins a hasty salute and shuffled out, Percy raised an eyebrow. "You get to boss the Legion around?"

"We get to boss _you_ around, yes." Emilia's eyes took on a manic gleam, and her poker suddenly looked far pointier than it had when he had first entered the circular temple. "One of the few perks of the job."

"And can _anyone_ become a Virgin? I mean, before… _ya know…"_

Manic laughter ensued, and much gripping of the sides accompanied it. "Sorry, we only recruit pre-pubescents," Emilia managed to explained through her chortles, reaching up to wipe tears of hysteria from her eyes. "And no boys, either. Can't risk getting any cooties into the Sacred Fire, can we?"

"Upon the retirement of the _Vestalium Maxima,_ lots are drawn. Candidates are usually between six and ten," Valerie elaborated. "It's sort of like the Hunger Games, only death is… _less_ likely..?" She gave her superior a questioning look.

Emilia's expression did a complete 180, giving Percy a grave look. "Household accidents account for about 65% of unnatural deaths. 'Tis a perilous task."

"Uh, sure." Percy half-heartedly reminded himself to purchase a _Wet Floor_ sign later on in the day. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Frank returning with a pile of firewood in his clutches. As his escort plopped his splintery load next to the hearth, he asked, "But don't you ever get tired of this job?"

"Oh, it's not _all_ bad." Shrugging, the high priestess said, "Sure, celibacy's a bit of a drag, but life's very much what you make of it. Besides, _I've_ only got six more months until retirement! Finally, I can date like a _normal_ person!"

Half to herself, Valerie muttered, "About as normal as lurking in the shadows quoting Sith Lords at strangers _can_ be, anyway…"

"Jealousy does not become you _, my young apprentice._ Soon, _you_ shall be the Master Virgin!" With a triumphant _huff,_ she plopped herself onto a plain woolen seat with a white cushion beside the hearth. Then, blinking, Emilia returned her attention to their guests. "And what are _you_ lot loitering about for? The war games are starting soon, aren't they? After dinner, naturally. Go on, _get,_ have _fun,_ enjoy _life!_ We'll keep the fire going."

Ω

 _My apologies for the Star Wars references._

 _In ancient Rome, the Temple of Vesta was the location of the Palladium, a sculpture of the goddess Athena. It was originally kept in Troy, but was stolen by Odysseus and Diomedes when the city fell, and was taken to the future site of Rome by Aenas. It was guarded by the Virgins themselves, as it was one of seven items (the_ pignora signii _) said to guarantee Roman rule. They were later taken to New Rome in Constantinople, and probably kept following Camp Jupiter accordingly._ _ **Not to be confused with the Athena Parthenos.**_

 _Emilia and Valerie were named after two historic Vestals, Aemilia and Valeria._


End file.
